


An Exercise in Patience

by Baebadook



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), UnDeadwood (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Edging, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Glove Kink, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, NSFW Art Links, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Safe Sane and Consensual, Slight Danger Kink, Spanking, UnDeadwood Mini-series (Critical Role), Voice Kink, Western Gothic, brief mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 20:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21434467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baebadook/pseuds/Baebadook
Summary: “We did warn him.” Matthew says, and Clayton. Well Clayton pauses as he looks at him. Adam’s apple bobbing under his skin as his throat works. He notices the way his eyes glimmer in the hot sun, pupils a bit wider than before and- oh. Oh.That’s interesting.Clayton seems to have a...certain reaction to scary!Rev. Matthew notices.
Relationships: Reverend Matthew Mason/Clayton Sharpe
Comments: 16
Kudos: 141





	An Exercise in Patience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [losebetter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losebetter/gifts).

> This is my most ambitious work. The NSFW chat in the UnDeadwood Discord really knows how to enable a girl huh.
> 
> _I'm_ certainly not complaining.
> 
> This is particularly losebetter/Grey's fault! Well okay, it's my fault. I asked him if he'd be interested in drawing a picture in exchange for a fic to go along with it, and not only did he deliver, and deliver well. He made me 2 wonderful pictures to gaze at, that absolute madman! They're brilliant, absolutely so. Check them out in the end notes below!!

Matthew Mason knows he’s not the smartest member in this little group of theirs. Hell, Miriam and Bella can out pace all of them with leaps and bounds. He knows this.

He also knows how to use that to his advantage.

Sure there’s merit to his bumbling nature, and he can play that up should the need arise. Nobody expects a simple preacher like him to be dangerous- other than his size of course. Nobody expects him to know how to wield a weapon the way he does. It’s a good thing: they underestimate him, and he notices things.

He notices how even though he may be acting tough, the man they’d forced to his knees shakes in front of them. It’s understandable, really. They’ve got quite the arsenal on their hands.

“I’m not askin’ you again. What did you do with the gold?” Clayton demands to his left. Guns out and ready, squatting so that he can look at the criminal good in the face while he talks. The outlaw looks less than pleased.

“I ain’t telling you shit” He says, clearly aiming for gruff and falling short on account of the quake to his voice. Clayton gives him a flat look and Matthew takes a step forward. Draws his attention. Shotgun firm and heavy in his hands.

“Now son I suggest you start talking while you still have the appendage to work with.” The pleasantness has bled out of him until he’s blank, gazing down at him with harsh eyes and a facade of a smile. “Never know what might happen to it.”

Silence, and then- the outlaw spits at his feet, a disgusting combination of tobacco and blood mixing into the dirt and dust. He clucks his tongue.

“Clayton, your knife please.” He holds out a hand, palm up. The man stills so suddenly, blood draining out of his face. He's starting to take them seriously now it seems.

“No, no wait-”

Clayton stands and fishes it out of its holster and passes it over.

“We did warn him.” Matthew says, and Clayton. Well Clayton pauses as he looks at him. Adam’s apple bobbing under his skin as his throat works. He notices the way his eyes glimmer in the hot sun, pupils a bit wider than before and- oh. _ Oh_.

That’s interesting.

The exchange only lasts for a mere moment, but it feels ingrained into his mind as he takes the knife handle first. The bandit scrambles against his binds, tries to scoot back away from them but Aly is there to keep him in place.

“Fine. Fine please just don’t. Don’t kill me.” He begs.

“Then start talkin’.”

“I left the money. I-I buried it at the base of a tree a few miles back for safe keeping. Real gnarled and charred from a lightning storm, you can’t miss it. I promise.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard now was it?” Matthew turns, smile becoming more genuine as he looks to Miriam, still sat atop her horse with Bella behind her. “Would you mind verifying this claim for us Miss Miriam?”

It’s a few tense minutes as they wait for the girls to return, all three of them making sure the man doesn’t try to run. Again. Soon enough though, they return with the bags in hand.

“It’s all there.” Miriam says once they’ve finished counting. Aly rubs his hands together with an infectious grin on his face.

“Easiest damn job we’ve had in weeks.”

“Easy for you to say.” Clayton grumbles, and Matthew hides a grin, recalling him scrambling and tackling the man to the ground hard.

Said man shifts on his knees, dust caking his clothes from head to toe. His expression is weary, nervous as he looks at them all.

“What are you going to do with me?” He asks, voice vacant of it’s previous remaining bravado. Matthew feels some measure of sympathy for the poor man, but this is what happens when you foolishly try and steal from Al Swearengen. And Al said to deal with the mess. They all know what that means. He shares a glance with Clayton, can almost hear the offer in the gaze he sends him. Matthew shakes his head and steps forwards again.

“Don’t despair, my child. You’ll be with our maker soon.” He raises his shotgun. It should worry him, how desensitized he is to this kind of thing. He’ll go to bed tonight and only dwell on it for a few minutes before he falls asleep curled up next to his beloved.  
  
“Wait please! You can’t do this, I told you what you wanted to know!”

He pulls the trigger.

* * *

Rather understandably, he forgets the small moment he had with Clayton, what with everything else that followed and preceded it. He forgets that is, until they finally have a decent moment together. He presses his lover against the door to his room over the newly reconstructed church. He mouths at the warm skin of his neck and curls his fingers into his hips.

“‘Bout fuckin’ time. Been waitin’ for this all week.” Clayton says, head falling back against the door with an audible thunk. Matthew hums softly, lapping over the small bites he had just made. Tilts his hips forwards so they brush against his.

“Really? I couldn’t possibly tell.”

“Hush. Damn Swearengen and his jobs.” It’s that sentence there that brings it all back to him- the way Clayton had swallowed hard, gorgeous eyes locked on to him. He’d love to see the expression again. Wants to see how far he can take it.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, running a hand up his neck to cup his cheek. Clayton looks a bit confused at the sudden question.

“You already know the answer to that.” He mumbles. Pushes his body against him. Matthew bites at his collar, beard brushing along his skin.

“Good.” He says. He moves them around until he's closest to the door and backs away from his grasp. Clayton watches him go with that stare of his, eyes hooded, something like anticipation burning there. He locks the door. Turns to look back at him.

“You should undress now.” It’s a statement, not a question. He pins the gunslinger with his own gaze. Dips his voice down low. Steady and slow, and terribly dangerous, just like he had pulled on that bandit some days ago. The reaction is instant- Clayton sucks in a sharp breath, eyes widening ever so slightly. What’s more is the way his pupils grow, swallowing up his icy blue irises. He swallows hard. A slow blush has already started to work it’s way to his cheeks and neck, a clear sign that he knows he’s been caught.

It’s good to know that he didn’t misunderstand anything.

He stands there for a moment, stock still, and Matthew cocks his head to the side.

“I believe I told you to do something for me.” He says, a slow ghost of a smile curling on his face. Not quite warm.

“Holy fuck.” Clayton breathes- and then he’s working at his clothes. Throwing his hat to the side, yanking at his tie. Matthew watches on with rapt attention, a small grumble of laughter in his throat. He starts to take care of his own clothes, but at a much slower pace. He shrugs his coat off of broad shoulders, taking the time to fold it over the back of the chair in the corner of his room with slow deliberate movements.

Clayton meanwhile has fully stripped at this point, naked in the middle of his room, cock already at attention between his legs. Matthew was getting there himself, a thrill sliding down his spine and to his hips at the sight. He removes his shoes and socks next

“Why don’t you sit down and get comfortable?” Clayton sinks down to sit at the edge of the mattress so quickly it’s almost as if he’d never been standing in the first place. Stripped down to his shirt, pants, and suspenders Matthew walks over to him. Takes his time until he’s standing between his legs. He rakes his eyes up and down over the view presented to him. The way Clayton leans back to look up towards him, chest moving harder than usual. He already looks disheveled and they’ve barely gotten started. He also looks like he’s ready to do anything at his beck and call. Matthew could ask so much of him in this moment and he’d do it. That thought alone- that true unbridled _ trust _ makes his mouth grow dry and his heart clench.

Matthew slips a hand into his hair and tugs so he’s _ properly _ looking up at him, neck stretched out and ripe for digging his teeth into. He smirks when Clayton whines at the sensation. Leans over and kisses him deep, tongue sliding into his mouth. Clayton hooks a hand around one of his leather suspenders and drags him in as close as he can possibly get, trying to arch into him in a fruitless attempt to get contact. Matthew chuckles into the kiss and backs away, only to nip at the tantalizing skin of his neck.

“Hands and knees, please.”

Clayton complies, scooting back on the sheets and then turning over into the position required of him. Matthew bites his lip, eyeing his ass appreciatively when it’s presented to him. He runs a hand across the front of his pants, pleasure tingling across his body as he palms himself. Clayton glances over his shoulder and gives him a look.

“Enjoyin’ yourself are we?” He asks dryly, and damn if he isn’t the prettiest view in all of Deadwood. Hair a mess, pupils still oh-so wide as he looks at him. Cock hard and hanging down between his legs. Pert ass cheeks spread front and center. Matthew wants to pepper him with marks until it’s all you can see.

“I think my view is _ quite _ favorable, yes.” He says, voice still a low drawl. Clayton’s hands clench in the sheets. He really gets off on it. Matthew laughs once more and climbs onto the mattress. He runs a gloved hand across his ass and then slides it up to where he’s tracing his fingers along his spine, smiling when Clayton shivers under his touch. He gets up to about his neck and presses down lightly. A command. Clayton follows through, bending his elbows and sinking down until his torso is pushed to the mattress. Ass still proudly put on display.

Clayton turns his head to the side so he’s not suffocating in the pillows, face relaxing. Matthew takes another moment to look at him and his serious demeanor shifts for a moment into his usual self. Something so much softer overtaking his features as he leans down to place a gentle kiss to his cheek. Clayton cranes his neck more so the next one is on the lips, and Matthew smooths a soothing hand up and down his back.

“Give the bed a few taps if it gets to be too much, okay?” Clayton nods his consent, throat bobbing. He’s practically thrumming with palpable anticipation. With want and _ need_.

Matthew moves over to retrieve a particular jar of oil out of one of his drawers and sets it down on the bed next to him. He’s not utilizing it quite yet- he wants to take his time with him. Make him gasp and sob until he’s _ begging _ for it. His cock strains at the mere thought alone.

He runs his hands across his naked hips, his thighs, purposely avoiding the one spot that would give him any amount of the release he craves. Then he sweeps them across his ass. Gives one of his cheeks a light experimental thwack with his open palm. Clayton shudders. Interesting, very interesting. He finally spreads his cheeks wider, admiring that taut ring of muscle. It clenches at the exposure of cool air and he smirks when Clayton wriggles slightly in his grasp. And then he bows down and licks across his hole.

“_Fuck_.” Clayton gasps out, strangled and taken by surprise. Matthew grins to himself and repeats the movement. He kneads his cheeks while he ravishes his hole. Delights in the grunts and moans that escape Clayton's mouth. He slides his tongue in and groans himself at the feeling of him clamping down around him. 

Clayton can only twitch at the sensation and grasp at the sheets tight enough that his knuckles turn white. Matthew fucks him with his tongue until he's a panting mess from his ministrations, curls it against his hole and slipping it back in. He wonders if Clayton could come like this, just from the way his tongue works him open and presses into him. It's a high probability, if the way he's whining and rocking back against him says anything.

He sits back up and admires his handiwork: the redness of his ass, a combination of his beard scraping across pale sensitive skin and the way he'd gripped at him. Little dark spots where his fingers had dug into Clayton's skin. Marking him as his only only his. He swipes a hand across his mouth, wiping away the drool that had dribbled and clung to his chin.

Clayton beings to slip a hand down below him and Matthew catches his elbow before he can get there.

“Now, I don’t recall telling you that you could touch yourself.”

Clayton sighs ragged, but doesn’t protest. He just grumbles about Matthew being a fuckin’ tease and slips his hand to grip the sheets once more. Matthew lets it slide this time.

"Look at you, so damn gorgeous." He brings a hand down on him, the sound of leather connecting with skin a stark difference from the quiet of the room. Clayton outright moans, body shuddering forwards and arching with the sudden motion. "You're a work of art, Clayton Sharpe."

"And you're goin' too slow." He grouses, muffled somewhat from where his mouth is half shoved into the sheets, hair curling around his neck and cheeks. A bit of drool has leaked out the corner of his mouth. Matthew tsks him slowly and grabs the jar again.

"Patience is a virtue, Mr. Sharpe. Surely you know that by now." For emphasis he slaps his cheek once more, not quite as hard with his non-dominant hand, but Clayton seems to appreciate it nonetheless. “I think you’ll be just fine with waiting a little longer.”

“Sometimes I think you’re fixin to kill me Reverend.”

“You’ll survive.” He unscrews the jar lid and tips the container, watches as it pours out over the cleft of his ass. Clayton jerks again as the cool liquid spills onto his skin and sends him a half-hearted glare. His face is too flushed and slack to carry any real heat though, and Matthew just smiles back. The oil trickles down to his balls before dripping into the sheets. Clayton’s already made a complete and utter mess of them, sweat collecting at his knees and dampening the linen. Precome slipping out the head of his cock and splattering beneath him. It’s quite the breathtaking sight to behold, seeing someone usually so composed so completely and utterly debauched. He’ll probably need new sheets, as well as gloves after the evening is over and done with, but it’s oh-so worth it.

Matthew's dick is straining against the confines of his trousers something fierce. He slides a finger against his crack and gathers up some of the oil on the pad of his index finger before he slides it in deep, inching down only to stop once he’s pressed to the knuckle. Heat radiates even through the glove and it’s intoxicating, makes his toes curl with anticipation.

"Jesus fucking Christ Matthew." Clayton chokes out. He sounds so deliciously breathless. Matthew's other hand stings through the thick fabric as it makes contact again, tingling pleasantly. The muscle enveloping his finger constricts hard and tight.

"This is a house of the Lord, Clayton. You'd best do well to remember that." He slides another finger in. Presses down good and deep as far as he can manage and curls them. The pressure against the bundle of nerves inside of Clayton has him jerking and twitching again. He makes a wane, desperate noise in the back of his throat as Matthew keeps them there, keeps rubbing against that spot.

"Please."

"Please what?" Another strangled noise and Clayton pushes his forehead down into the sheets. He keeps working on that spot with slow, languid movements. His hand'll probably be cramped and sore in the morning, but that's a problem for later.

"How are you feeling?" Matthew asks, tone measured. Almost a hair sly. Even though making Clayton moan and fall apart might just tip him over the edge in the process. He yearns and _ aches _for that tight heat. Wants to bury his cock deep and rut into him until he can't think straight, but this is his own exercise of patience. A third finger joins the others and he opens him up wide as he can, gets him nice and ready to take his cock.

"Feels good. Feels so good." Clayton gasps. His cock drips. He keeps gripping at the sheets and the headboard. He knows he wants to touch himself so badly.

"You're doing so good for me Clay." Another smack, only to smooth it away with the same hand what stung him. He abuses his prostate and presses his fingers in, rocking him forwards with every motion. Almost moving him up the sheets completely. Pretty soon he'll have to be cautious about smacking his head against the headboard.

Tears have started to prickle at his gorgeous blue eyes, squeezed shut so tight. Clinging to his eyelashes. His mouth is slack, wide open and tearing harsh sounds from his chest.

"_Please_." Another cry as he slips his fingers completely out. Watches him clench down hard and quiver on nothing.

"Think you're ready for me?" Matthew asks. He doesn't bother to remove any more of his clothes, even if his sweat makes them cling to him, the room is almost stifling hot. His cock is aching for it and his last shred of restraint has completely snapped. A splotch of precome has seeped through his slacks and his fingers shake as he undoes them. Takes his dick out of his pants and grunts at the touch that isn't quite enough.

"I've been ready for the past fifteen fuckin’ minutes." Clayton remarks. Matthew laughs softly and retrieves the jar. At the rate they’ve been going lately it won’t be long before he needs to buy more. Clay really does bring the worst out of him. Brings something out of him, anyways. He pumps his dick a few times, spreading the oil and reveling at the tug of leather over sensitive skin. Oil drips down onto the fabric of his pants, and that’s just another casualty to the cause. They’ll probably look even worse in a few minutes.

“C’mere.” He guides Clayton back by the hips until he’s arching beautifully against the sheets and adjusts himself accordingly, bracing his arms on either side of him and pressing down against his back. His wet dick slips between his cheeks and he groans at the gut churning sensation it brings along with it. Matthew keeps him there for a little while, teases him with the slick slide. Sometime during this whole thing Clayton’s legs started to tremble with the strain.

“The fuck you waiting for, Matty, the second coming of Christ?” Clayton bites out, words stumbled and uneven as he keeps rocking forwards, never quite penetrating. Matthew feels a foot hook around the back of his thigh that tugs in an attempt to get him closer. He lets out a pinched laugh and shakes his head. This man was gonna be the death of him one way or another.

“I think I quite like this, though.” He says innocently. Well, as innocently as one can when you’ve got your dick slipping between his ass cheeks.

“I swear to god Matthew.” He starts, only to moan when another crack of leather hits his ass.

“Patience, Clay.”

Clayton grumbles into the pillows about where he can stick that patience of his. He does have a solid idea, though.

“I suppose you deserve it, since you’ve been so good for me.” Matthew shifts his weight on to one hand and grabs his dick. Grinds it against him a few more times and sighs, hot and wound tight. Clayton starts to get fidgety again so he finally relents.

Matthew pushes inside of him with a certain amount of ease, considering how much he had been pampering him for it. It’s an intense sensation, a hot press swallowing him up and he groans low and wrecked. Up until now his own pleasure had been easily ignored, focusing more on ravishing Clayton within an inch of his life, and he has to inhale deep to steady himself.

Clayton doesn’t seem to be faring any better. He pants, heavy hot breaths that mingle with the creaking bed underneath them. Matthew places his palm at the dip of his back, rubbing small circles across his sensitive skin as he sinks down until he’s bottoming out.

“Breathe angel, I got you.”

“_God._”

A laugh. “Not quite.”

He starts to move, real nice and deep shifts of his hips. He takes his time with it, like they’ve got all of it in the world to work with, to be here in this moment. The sentiment might as well be true. He knows he has big plans; almost all of which includes not leaving this bed for the next day or so.

Clayton has dissolved of all possible word use, simply mewling and sobbing out while he gets fucked hard. He’s dutifully keeping his hands on the headboard, skin bled stark white against the wood.

“So gorgeous.” Matthew murmurs, one hand still tracing along that beautiful expanse of skin. Peppered generously with hair and all kinds of scars. Every single one of them proof that he’s here, alive and well and coming undone. This is what absolution feels like.

He keeps up a steady tempo, lust sinking right down his spine like an inferno. If anything the room has gotten hotter. Sweat clings to his brow and every stretch of skin that’s still covered in clothing. The linen is just as debauched as they are. He moves the hand up to curl his fingers in Clayton's hair. Moves the sweaty strands out of the way of his forehead and gives it a solid tug. Clayton_ keens_.

“Wanna come so bad.” He manages to say.

Matthew reaches down to grab his cock, Clayton vocalizing incoherently at finally, _ finally _ being touched, only to whine again when he wraps two fingers tight around the base.

“I’m not finished with you yet.”

“Really are gonna kill me.”

“At least you’ll die happy.” He says cheerily. Squeezes his fingers with intent. “No touching.”

Satisfied that he’ll follow through with his explicit instructions Matthew removes his fingers and instead digs them into his hips. He rocks forward with purpose, shifting so he finds that spot again. Clayton’s elbows actually buckle at that and he collapses against the bed, strung out and desperate for it.

“Holy fuckin’ _ shit _ fuck.” He has to give him a point for creativity.

“Do you think I can get you to come twice? Hmm?” He bucks his hips, hot breath loud and uneven, “Make you scream for it so loud the entire town knows who you belong to?” A crack to the skin. Clayton rocks backwards into the touch, frantic and shaking.

“_M__att_.”

“Come for me love.” Another rough slide against him. Another smack to his abused skin. Clayton makes a noise like he might actually be dying, punched hard from his chest. He clamps down on his cock hard and sobs as he comes into the sheets, completely untouched.

“Good boy.” He reaches down and strokes him through release, gripping him until Clayton groans from the overstimulation, not sure if he wants to shift away or into his hand. He’s slumped against the sheets, chest heaving and bone-limp. Matthew slips out of him slowly and helps turn him over and maneuver his limbs so that he’s comfortable on his back. Face a red mess, eyes blown wide. Tear tracks down his face and clinging to his lashes. He looks completely fucked out, and liquid heat pools at his hips, cock still hard and aching.

“You okay?” Matthew asks. He runs a hand to brush away his hair again and leans down to kiss his forehead. Clayton nods once, twice.

“Fuckin’ fantastic.” His voice croaks, just as sore and used as the rest of him. He looks down to him and spreads open his legs. “Come on.”

A different kind of warmth fills him at that and he smiles, real and genuine. “Are you sure?”

“Just hurry up n come already.” He grumbles, but it’s fond. Matthew huffs out a laugh.

“Okay.”

Even though he’s so wound tight he could pop he waits for a moment or two, giving Clayton more time to recover from an intense bout of sex. Then, as delicately as he can, he slips his legs around his waist and buries back into him. Careful about touching his ass. Clayton hisses, sensitive, but he doesn’t let up. Just squeezes him tight. 

“So good to me.” Matthew mutters, thrusting forwards. He steals one more kiss, slow and languid, and links their hands together. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too.” A smile curls across Clayton’s face, the kind he saves just for him, and his heart feels so full.

He pushes his forehead against Clayton's shoulder and fucks into him with uneven thrusts. It’s a bit of a surprise he’s lasted as long as he has, sinking into his phenomenal heat. He whimpers, balls tightening.

“There you go.” Clayton soothes. He bears down on him, nice and slow. Moves to meet his desperate rocking. “Come on.”

“Fuck.” That almost unbearable heat coils until it snaps completely. He cants forwards and spills his seed deep inside of him. Comes so hard it’s like the wind's been knocked out of him. Clayton works him through it in turn, fingers scratching at his scalp. Matthew gulps down air, frame shaking as he comes down.

“Good?” He asks. Matthew can only nod. After a pause to regulate his heartbeat he sits back up and pulls his softening cock out of him. He sees Clayton, partially stiff against his stomach and he arches a wry brow.

“Already?”

“Hey, you’re the one to blame for this okay?”

Matthew laughs softly. “I suppose so. Only right that I rectify it as well.” He doesn’t even give him any time to reply, he just takes his cock in one hand and swallows him down.

“Je-SUS Matt, give a guy a warnin’.” Despite this he arches into the touch, eyes fluttering closed. He presses a first against his mouth and bites down, still oversensitive. It doesn’t take him long to get to the point where he’s fully hard again and twitching in his mouth. Clayton whimpers and clamps his head between his thighs.

Matthew takes him down all the way and then slides his tongue back up the underside. Licks at the head, sharp precome on his tongue. Clayton gives him a tap- a warning- and he hums. Swallows him down deep again and the pulse of warm seed shoots into his mouth and down his throat. Clayton sobs and shakes and he keeps sucking him off until he’s tugging him off and up.

“Goddamn.”

“God doesn’t have anything to do with this.” Matthew remarks, swiping his mouth. Clayton barks out a laugh.

“No he doesn’t I ‘spose, ‘cept makin’ you fuck like a machine.” He keeps pulling until Matthew is up next to him. Matthew grins, loving the way he gets slurred and lazy after a particular good fuck. He gives in and strips fully out of his clothes, letting them drop haphazardly to the floor next to the bed. Then he lays down next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and tugging him in close until their foreheads touch.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Clayton’s eyes slip closed, eyelashes fanning across his cheeks. He lets him kiss him even if his mouth is probably disgusting. And speaking of.

“I need to clean us up.”

A grumble.

“Later.”

“You’re going to complain about it later.”

“Well, shit, that’s a problem for future-me.” Yeah, that sounds about right.

He does complain about it later. Matthew just laughs at him, completely smitten, and presses a mug of coffee in his hands. Then he goes downstairs and sees about preparing some semblance of a lunch for them. They’re gonna need their strength if Clayton’s gonna pay him back in kind.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I need a cigarette after this, hot damn. Comments and kudos would be greatly appreciated if you have the time or energy to do so, they really make my day!
> 
> As promised, these are the photos. NSFW, don't open around your parents!!! KDHF  
https://photos.app.goo.gl/o49QrTaGVrTG1nVH7  
https://photos.app.goo.gl/TbzS8LRP7rteXbN46
> 
> Grey is ALSO responsible, verbatim, for the second coming line. It was just too good not to use. Support him and his amazing work!! https://twitter.com/losebetter
> 
> Come join the UnDeadwood Discord server! The finale is upon us, let's scream together shall we? There are sfw areas are in it as well so don't worry. Feel free to hit me up here or on my Critical Role tumblr baeuregard.tumblr.com if you want an invite!


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